It Used to be Easy
by BarbosaTheGreenDucky
Summary: Graduation has come, and Glinda still regrets her choice to return to Shiz instead of staying with her best friend. Then she's offered a job working for her greatest enemies, and she suddenly has to decide how she's going to live the rest of her life.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: We promised this in April, so this is an obvious fail on my part. We neglected to factor in the chaos that AP testing and graduation would bring to my life, and therefore miscalculated by, well, a lot. I finally sat down and finished the first chapter, though, so here it is. You wouldn't believe how much prep work has gone into this story over the past four months, so we're incredibly psyched to finally post it.**

**Disclaimer: Two years and a new fic later, I still don't own Wicked.**

Chapter 1**  
**

"Oh, honey, how about this one?" Madame Upland gushed, pulling yet another dress out of the deep depths of her closet.

"No, Momsy," Glinda said, boredom and distraction etching their way into her voice. She had ceased paying attention long ago in favor of working on her speech. She frowned and scratched out a line, pushing so hard as to tear a small hole in the parchment.

"You didn't even _look_ at the dress," her mother said in exasperation.

Glinda sighed. "Momsy, I'm sorry, really, but I have to give this speech tomorrow in front of the entire school, and it's just not right yet."

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine," Madame Upland said breezily. "No one really listens to those things, anyway. They will, however, be looking at your dress, and it's important to be remembered well."

"I'll be wearing the same graduation robe as everyone else, and you've already approved my shoe choice. Also, I'd like to think that they will be listening to the speech I've worked on for a month, thank you very much."

Madame Upland sighed and sat down on the empty bed across from her daughter's. "Honestly, Galinda, what's gotten into you?"

There it was again: her mother's determined ignorance, her blatant disregard for the past, her unwillingness to accept this new creature masquerading as her darling little girl. Glinda couldn't even begin to count the times she had corrected her mother on the matter of her name ("It's _Glinda_, Momsy. The 'Ga' is silent.") and even on the reason behind it, but the stubborn older woman always managed to forget by the next time she said it. Glinda's old name was like a slap to the face to her now; "Galinda" was a sharp reminder of the girl she used to be, of the hurtful things she'd said and done, and of the person she wanted to forget had ever existed. The name Glinda was no longer just an homage to her favorite professor; it was now a symbol of the change within her, and a memorial to the woman who'd sparked it. That was probably the worst part of her mother's behavior, actually—her pronounced disrespect for the memory that lingered within the dorm room.

"Please get off of that bed, mother," Glinda said icily. "Haven't I asked you not to sit on it?"

Madame Upland pursed her lips and rose crisply to your feet. "I like to think I can recognize when I'm not wanted," she said. "I'll leave you to your little speech, now."

* * *

The six months after her return from the Emerald City were a fuzzy, painful blur that Glinda preferred not to think about. She could recall only the constant and obsessive studying, the fact that she had only been left alone when she was supposed to be sleeping, and the act of crying herself to sleep every night. She remembered a lot of quiet on her part and a lot of whispering behind her back, but her friends had been protective to the point of smothering her and she'd experienced very little actual confrontation. She'd felt secluded, though, and somehow shut off from the entire world; she'd unconsciously constructed some sort of invisible bubble around her that had separated her from everyone around her. She was different, now, after all. No one could understand the hell she had been through--no one but the person who had created it.

One day, though, she'd merely woken up and resolved to live again. There was only a certain point to which she could excuse herself of that kind of visible suffering, and that point had long passed. There had been too much to do and too many inherited responsibilities to carry out to stay huddled in her empty room for any longer.

That hadn't made the ache go away, though, and certainly didn't make her feel any more like a complete person. She still wondered each and every day how a person could function without their other half, how a person could actually _live_ under those conditions. Every day, her conclusion was the same: necessity. It was amazing what a person could do when they had no other options.

On the morning of her graduation, Glinda locked her door and ignored the insistent knocking at it. She didn't want her mother to fuss over her, she didn't want her classmates' congratulations, and she certainly didn't want her friends' hovering. She just wanted some time by herself to mentally readjust.

It had been some time since she had dressed with such care. She had long resorted to haphazard ponytails in the morning and her more comfortable dresses, so pulling out the curlers and the frillier half of her wardrobe felt more than a little odd. She knew that it was expected, though, so she carefully styled every hair and picked out the pale pink gown that used to be her favorite. Then, continuing to be skeptical of the importance of her dress, she slipped her blue graduation robe on and carefully pinned her cap on top of her curls. Her stoles and medals completed the picture, setting her apart from her original crowd and distinguishing her above all the others.

Glinda studied her image in the mirror for a long moment, unable to push her stubborn thoughts out of the way.

"You should've been here," she said to the empty room, before giving her hat a final adjustment and walking out of the door.

* * *

"Just remember, Miss Glinda, you need to keep your speech under five minutes. I read over your speech last night and made some minor adjustments, so why don't you look over that before we start."

Madame Morrible held out a piece of paper to her, but Glinda merely narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, 'minor adjustments?'"

"Oh, nothing, dear. I merely had to take out one or two things to make it more agreeable to the common audience. It makes very little difference in the overall integrity of the piece, I assure you."

Glinda warily took the paper and gave Morrible one last glare before she unfolded it. Minor adjustments, indeed! Half of her speech was crossed out with angry red lines, and some were even rewritten for her. Glinda lividly crumpled up the paper into a tiny red-lined ball and hurled it against the wall. The first strains of "Pomp and Circumstance" could be heard through the heavy oak doors at that moment, so Glinda decisively gripped the note cards in her hands and led her class into the auditorium with her head held abnormally high. She sat impatiently through the processional and the administrators' speeches, and practically leapt to her feet when her name was called. Once at the podium, she stood there and stared at the crowd silently for so long that the people started to nervously shift under her gaze and twitter amongst themselves. Then, without warning, Glinda started to speak.

"I walked into Shiz University three years ago as a naive seventeen year-old girl who believed that the world was filled with immense opportunity just waiting to be claimed. Today, I stand before you as a graduate who realizes that opportunity, though available to all, can only be obtained by those willing to fight for it, and to give up everything they have.

"I am older and wiser now than I was those long years ago, and can only hope that my fellow graduates can say the same. Though we sat in class for more hours than we care to remember and studied until we wanted to cry, the actual educational programs in place here taught us very little in comparison to the repeated intrusions of the _world_ on our safe little campus. If there is one thing I hope that we all walk away with today, it is the ability to doubt and to question, for without this, our future is doomed to contain the same darkness as our past and present."

Glinda paused and looked significantly around the auditorium. "Don't hesitate," she said firmly, "and don't just sit back and accept anything. Nothing is absolute, and nothing is guaranteed. You never know what tomorrow will bring or take away, so you can never just sit back and expect the world to hand you justice."

She glanced briefly at Morrible and smiled slightly at the horrified expression on her face before opening her mouth to continue.

* * *

"A- a _job_?" Glinda stuttered incredulously, believing at once that the heat from her heavy robe had finally gotten to her head.

"Yes, dear, a job. Now, after the little stunt you pulled during the ceremony, I am fully inclined to extend the offer to someone more deserving, but the Wizard is insistent on _you_ for reasons I cannot even begin to comprehend. 'She's the top of her class!' he's always exclaiming, 'The most promising mind in her generation!' I think, however, that the aspect of your person that is the most appealing to him is your previous show of loyalty. I do think that he finds that very attractive indeed."

Glinda's entire body stiffened. "No," she said firmly, and turned on her heel to walk away.

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the Wizard like that, dearie," Morrible called after her almost gleefully. "Your previous act of allegiance may have been what interested him in you in the first place, but that would only make a sudden act of infidelity that much more upsetting to him. Remember, _dear_, that you've seen what the Wizard is like when he is upset."

Glinda stopped cold, torn between the frigid knife of fear and the burning fire of fury. Her heart pounded as she slowly turned back to face the cruel, fish-like woman. A thousand emotions flitted through her head as she stared blankly: the fresh feeling of promise that a new connection with another person brings; the strange high of giggling at three in the morning when you have a class in four hours; the elation of being _chosen _above all others; the quiet comfort of a shaking hand slipping tightly into yours; the feeling of your heart being torn in two; the dull ache of separation.

"What do you want?" she demanded, hating herself for the slight tremor in her voice.

"We want a pretty face," Morrible said bluntly, "a public visage to cue the public and to represent the Wizard's policy. The people are growing more restless and anxious as witch-sightings grow more frequent, and since increased public appearances of the Wizard would greatly hurt his image, we need someone to do it for him. He thinks that the pretty, blonde valedictorian of Shiz will be perfect."

Glinda squeezed her eyes shut, willing Morrible to disappear. "How long do I have to decide?"

"Now would be nice."

Glinda opened her eyes. "Now is impossible. I need time to think." At Morrible's glower, Glinda added, "Madame," as an afterthought.

"Then tonight," Morrible said crisply. She turned to walk back to the formless mass of graduates. "My office, eight o'clock. Don't be late!"

Glinda stood dumbly for several minutes, watching Morrible disappear into the crowd, unsure of what to do next. Telling anybody of the offer would be unspeakably stupid; no one, not even Fiyero or Boq, actually knew what had happened in the Emerald City, and everyone would undoubtedly urge her to accept the offer. She didn't need encouragement, though; she needed advice. She needed a rational mind to walk through her options with. She needed her best friend.

She wasn't quite sure how she ended up by the canal, but there she was, slipping her shoes off and hiking up her skirts to wade into the water. She remembered when she used to protest to getting wet and sandy, when she would literally have to be dragged in with arms flailing and threats flying.

"Well," Glinda said loudly, "I'm in the canal, and you didn't even have to force me."

She was met with only the muted sounds of the celebrating going on behind her. Glinda sighed; it's not like she ever expected anything different.

"You know, I don't even know why I come here to talk to you. It's not like you're dead, or--you know, you _could _be dead and I wouldn't even know it. Does that seem unfair to you at all? Because I, of all people, deserve to be the first person to know if you get a _paper cut._"

Suddenly hit with an overwhelming, paralyzing fear, Glinda whimpered. "I'd know, wouldn't I, Elphie? Somehow, I'd know. I'd just feel it. I'd have to. You couldn't die and me not know. We're just...we're too connected...aren't we?"

She paused for a minute, using every ounce of her energy to rein in her emotions. She hadn't cried since the day she crawled out of bed almost a year ago, and she wasn't about to start now. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had this idea that Elphaba could see her; even if she knew this wasn't true, she still wanted to live her life in a way that would have made Elphaba proud, and that kind of life did not involve crying.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut to dam the threatening waterworks. "He thinks I was loyal when I didn't go with you. _Loyal_, of all things! How do I even respond to that? I want to march to the Emerald City and tell him to his face to go find some other pretty, blonde valedictorian to do his dirty work. I want to _scream_ it at him, and while I'm at it, I want to tell him what a thick, ignorant, despicable ass he is and to go hang himself behind one of his fancy green curtains."

Glinda let her robe drop into the water as she reached up to cover her face with her hands. "I wasn't loyal," she said quietly, more to convince herself than anything. "If anything, I was as disloyal as I could possibly be. I abandoned my best friend when she needed me most, and I'll never forgive myself for it. I know that I wasn't--I mean, that you didn't actually ask me to stay with you but...I should have insisted on it. I shouldn't have let you go by yourself. I shouldn't have let you leave me."

Glinda shook her head slightly to bring herself back into the present. "But if I don't do it, then I'm essentially doomed. You saw how quickly he turned all of Oz against you, and I heard everything that you heard that day. I simply know too much, and the only thing I have going for me is my continuing compliance. If I thought that this was a second chance, I'd take it in a heartbeat, but you're long gone. There's no finding you now--Lurline knows I've tried. For some reason, I thought that you'd want me to find you, that you would've left me some sort of trail to follow. I'm such a fool."

Glinda cleared her throat, annoyed with herself. "So anyway, I'm stuck in a corner over here. If I reject the job, I'm as good as dead. If I take the job, I'll be knowingly working for the man who ruined my life, your life, and so many others'. There's no good side to this! Even if I was free to walk away from the offer, it's not like I have any other plans for my future. I hate to admit it, but I have no idea where I'm going after today. My parents' estate would be the obvious first stop, I suppose, but after that?"

"Who are you talking to?" a voice suddenly demanded behind her.

Glinda jumped so badly that she almost fell into the water. She looked behind her to see Boq, Fiyero, and Nessarose standing behind her, Fiyero's steadying hand resting on Nessa's back. "No one," she said too quickly. "Myself."

Boq and Fiyero looked unconvinced, and Nessa looked suspicious. Glinda sighed theatrically and switched tactics. "Look, it's been a really big day. Everyone up there wanted to talk to me and I couldn't even hear myself think. Can you blame me for just wanting some time to myself?"

She flashed them a small, tired smile and she knew that they wouldn't argue any further. Boq and Fiyero had long taken it upon themselves to be Nessa and Glinda's protectors, and if talking to herself made Glinda happy, they would take it. Considering their long record of failures, they grabbed onto whatever successes they could.

"Just give me a few more minutes, okay? I'll meet you at the Peach and Kidney's at about eight thirty and we can celebrate together properly. I promise."

They agreed, albeit unhappily, and turned to walk back up the hill. Glinda waited until they faded back into the crowd before she turned back to the canal and the darkening horizon behind it.

"All I want to do is good," she whispered. "I want to help you in whatever fight you've joined, but I don't know how to do that if I'm just sitting at home doing nothing. I also don't know how I'm going to do that as the Wizard's pawn."

Glinda suddenly knew what she had to do in a way that made her feel like it had been staring her in the face the entire time. She hated it with every fiber of her being, but she knew there was no way around it.

She took a deep breath. "You may hate me for it, but there's no other way," she said firmly. "Besides," she said, somewhat less convincingly, "I know what I'm doing."

She waded out of the canal and wiped her feet off before slipping her shoes back on. The clock tower rang out a single bell, telling her it was 7:30. She had a half hour to walk across campus and give Morrible her grateful acceptance.

**A/N: For a while, at least, this will have the same alternating chapters posting pattern and the same bold/italics contrast as Delusions of Grandeur. But look! Plot! That's definitely different. Anyway, please review. We're still trying to figure out this whole cohesive-plot thing, so any feedback will help.**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello there. It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that; I had exams right after DefiGraviti posted, then we went to Disney World and I started a new job. It's just been a long month._

_Anyway, I think we're going to start giving ourselves solid deadlines so this doesn't happen again. Hopefully you'll start to get updates every two weeks now, instead of every five, which should just work better for everyone involved._

_Hope everyone's having a good summer, now enjoy the chapter!_

_

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**Chapter 2**

Fiyero, Boq, and Nessarose were deep in conversation in their usual booth at the Peach and Kidneys when Glinda arrived. She paused for a moment, just to watch, and it struck her that this would be the last time they would all be together for a very long while. Boq caught her looking just then, and the table fell silent as she approached.

"I-is everything all right, Glinda?" he asked. Two years ago his nervousness would have annoyed her, but tonight it made guilt twinge at her stomach. She must have been acting pretty erratically lately for her closest friends to be afraid of simply addressing her. Truth be told, she wasn't certain if everything was all right or not, so she passed over his question.

"Morrible offered me a job," she said, sitting down next to Fiyero. "Well, I suppose it's the Wizard who did the offering," she replied to Fiyero's confused look, "but he doesn't make public appearances, does he?"

"A job with the Wizard? Glinda, that's fantastic!" Nessa was smiling, and Glinda remembered how little the three of them knew about what had happened on that horrible day in the Emerald City.

"Congratulations," Fiyero said, blinking away his confused expression and putting an arm briefly around her shoulders. "We should celebrate." He called a waiter over and ordered champagne. When the waiter was gone, he turned back to Glinda. "So, tell us about this job."

"As of July 1st, I'll officially be the Wizard's Director of Communications," she said. "I'll be like a press secretary, but instead of dealing with reporters I'll be dealing directly with the public, attending events, making policy announcements, stuff like that."

"The Wizard does need a better face than Horrible Morrible," Boq said, wrinkling his nose at the thought of her. "It sounds perfect, Glin."

"It is perfect," she replied. And it was. It was exactly the type of job Glinda had been dreaming about ever since Elphaba had convinced her to dream beyond finding a wealthy husband, except that those dreams had also included other specifications that were all but impossible now.

The waiter returned with their champagne and Fiyero raised his glass. "A toast," he said, looking around at each of them. "To old college friends."

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Glinda knocked on Fiyero's door early the next morning. A muffled voice answered, "For the last time, Avaric, I am not going to help you toss Professor Forthwaite's portrait into the canal." She knocked again.

"Fiyero, it's me."

Shuffled footsteps, then he opened the door. "Glinda, you know I'll do anything for you, but could it wait until the sun rises?"

"Boq will be here after the sun rises, or you'll be with Boq, or you'll be somewhere with other people," she said, shaking her head. "I have to talk to you alone."

"Is everything ok?" he asked, stepping aside and holding open the door. His room looked much like Glinda's did, walls bare, closets empty, boxes stacked along one wall. She took a deep breath. Fiyero was leaving, returning home to a place that was practically a different country. She had to tell someone, and she'd never again find another person she trusted more.

"That look you gave me last night when I said Morrible'd given me a job; what was that?" she asked, sitting down on his bed.

His brow furrowed, and he shrugged. "I know you don't like her," he said, then stopped. He seemed to be working it out as he spoke to her. "No one _likes_ her, but you've taken it further than that. It's like she sickens you, somehow. You always dread talking to her, and you're never quite yourself after you do. I just think it's odd that she'd offer you a job, given all that."

Glinda didn't quite know how to respond. She didn't think Fiyero'd been paying so much attention. "You're right," she said finally, "or, well, almost." She told him everything, from Morrible's weird conference with the three girls to their experience with the Wizard. "I couldn't back her up, not even then. She stood there shouting about liberty and all I could do was crack jokes and try to get us out of there alive. That's the difference between us, Fiyero: I'm too worried about being killed to do anything like what Elphaba was doing."

Fiyero shook his head. "You're just as worried as you need to be," he said, moving closer to her. "Elphaba was foolhardy, Glinda. The library work for Dr. Dillamond, her outburst in Nikidik's class, even Nessa's stories prove it. You had to choose to do what you thought was best; no one can hold that against you."

"I didn't make a choice, Fiyero! Do you know what happened after we saw the Wizard? I got on a train, and she didn't. There was no conversation, no invitation to join her, just a goodbye. She didn't want me there. And you want to know the worst part?" she sighed, out of steam. "I'm not certain I would have gone with her even if she'd asked."

They were silent for a while. When Fiyero spoke, it was in a voice filled with certainty. "I can't say what you would or wouldn't have done if she'd asked you to go," he said. "That's something you'll have to figure out by yourself. But I can say that there's no doubt in my mind that she wanted you to be with her." Glinda started to protest, but he cut her off. "Elphaba may not have cared about what happened to her, but she sure as Oz cared what happened to you. Don't you see? She couldn't ask because you might have said yes, and then she'd have been putting you in danger, too."

Glinda had never thought of it that way. She nodded. "Thank you, Fiyero. I needed that."

He shrugged. "You'll need it more than once, I expect, but you know where to find me: head west and look for the biggest castle in the Vinkus. Or wait for me to appear in the Emerald City," he added. "I am prince of a whole tribe; I'll probably be there so often you'll get sick of me."

Glinda didn't think that was possible, but the sun was coming up and she had to catch the train home later that day. "I'm going to hold you to that," she told him, hugging him goodbye. "I'll mail you all of my information once I reach the City. I want to hear from you the moment you know you're coming, understand?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Oh, and Glinda?" he said as she stepped out the door. "If it makes any difference, I think you would have said yes." She smiled slightly and waved, and then she was gone.

************************************************************************

"Miss Glinda," someone said behind her. Glinda tensed. She knew that voice all too well, and it could mean nothing good. She searched her mind for things that might have gone wrong that day: Had she not curtsied far enough when she'd been introduced to the ambassador from Quox that morning? Was she not dressed as Morrible and the Wizard wished? She'd been aiming for professionalism that morning, but she could see how the results might have been drab, or worse, funereal, but it was her first day, and-- "Miss Glinda!"

She turned. "Yes, Madame?"

"Please, Glinda, we're colleagues now. Call me Malandra." Glinda twitched at the lack if an honorific in front of her name, and the idea of being on a first name basis with Horrible Morrible was disgusting, but if it could make things easier, she'd do it.

"Is something the matter, Malandra?" she choked out.

"There's been a sighting."

"A sighting?" A sighting of what? Oz, it was like people spoke in code here.

"Your old friend," Morrible replied, an awful, leering grin spreading across her face. "The Wicked Witch was spotted by our guards on the northwest wall not twenty minutes ago." Black spots danced in front of Glinda's vision. Elphaba? She was alive then, at least. And so close… She realized Morrible was still talking: "…in ten minutes. They'll release it to their people, and the criers will be trilling the news from every street corner within the hour. Everything's on you after that," she said. "The people will run screaming through the streets, if the Wizard's and my campaigns have been effective." Glinda hated her for enjoying her discomfort so visibly. "It's quite a challenge for your first day. I myself doubt you'll be able to stem the panic, but the Wizard insists he has the utmost faith in your abilities." Morrible stood to leave. "Good luck, Miss Glinda. I do hope you prove me wrong." She left Glinda rooted to the spot without a clue in the world as to what to do.

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_Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Right on schedule! I actually don't have a whole lot to say, so enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Wicked.**

Chapter 3

Glinda didn't know for how long she sat without moving after Morrible left her alone, but as the shadows grew longer and the room took on a dimmer hue, she realized that it had been a pretty significant length of time. She clenched and unclenched her jaw, knotted her fingers together, barely blinked. She couldn't decide if she was overreacting or not, but whatever she had been expecting, she hadn't prepared herself for _this._

The screeching announcement came about three shadow-inches after Morrible departed, and the screaming followed almost immediately. There wasn't so much screaming anymore, just a sort of muted chaos leaking through her window, but she retained enough sense to know that she had sat in her state of paralyzed confusion for the very maximum amount of permissible time. It was time for her to get over her shock, gather her wits, and _do_ something.

The first thing she did was walk to her closet. The stubborn, hurting side of her wanted to remain in the dress she was in, but the more logical side of her told her that the Wizard hadn't hired Glinda, Elphaba Thropp's best friend, but rather Galinda Upland of the Arduennas, a society girl, and she would just have to look the part. When she'd arrived at her office this morning, she had opened her door to find not only her desk and a schedule for the day, but also a closet filled with a dozen or more unfamiliar dresses. The Wizard had supplemented her wardrobe with some of the frilliest, poofiest, laciest dresses in Oz; Glinda couldn't help but feel that he was trying to supplement her identity as well. With a small sigh, she stepped back to look at the Wizard's "suggestions."

_The pink one, _she thought automatically, fingering the flouncy sleeves. She quickly decided against it, though, and pushed it and the green one aside. Not tonight—not with what she was about to do. She ultimately settled on a neutral blue—plunging and elaborate and sparkling from every angle—perfect for her first public appearance.

She pulled the dress on over her head and expertly laced up the back, taking only a moment to rearrange her curls and adjust to the now-unfamiliar weight of a fully ornamented ball gown before she timidly stepped out onto her balcony. Staring down at the people below her, she almost lost her nerve. They were frantic, running headlong down the street with children hidden under cloaks or dragged harshly by the hand—and that was only the people still in the streets! Most people had long fled to the safety of their homes. The marketplace across from the palace, which had been a bustling center of activity only hours before, was now naked and deserted. Shutters were closed and doors were locked all down the road, locking their inhabitants securely inside. Those that were left were the slow, tardy ones; they had a wild, almost feral air about them as they hurled themselves forward, clutching their limbs close to their bodies and craning their necks to see around every corner. Glinda wanted to laugh and tell them that they'd be better off looking _up, _but she held her tongue. Instead, she forced her mouth into a smile and gripped the stone railing in front of her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she called out weakly, her voice swept away by the wind. Not even the birds sitting on the ledge paid her any mind. She felt like crying. Despite her best efforts at self-control, Glinda quickly and thoroughly scanned every ounce of Oz that was in her range of sight, ending at the northwest wall. She stared at it so long that her eyes began to water, but it was useless; there was no familiar flash of green to be found. Glinda felt her poorly-repaired heart break a little along the familiar jagged line.

Glinda swallowed and took a deeper breath. "Ladies and gentlemen!" she tried again, and though the haggard-looking woman rushing by glanced upwards at her this time, she made very little overall impact.

She cleared her throat, now annoyed. "_People of Oz!_" she bellowed. This time, the woman stopped and turned to look at her. A single shutter slowly opened. A face appeared from behind an abandoned market stall. Glinda smiled in grim satisfaction.

"People of Oz," she said again, calmer this time, "There is no need to panic." She paused for a moment. Where in the Oz did she go from there, anyway? "I know that the recent…events…have caused…fright—but please, you must remain calm. The-the Wizard has it all under control."

She had their attention now. Shutters all down the street were opening and heads were cautiously peering out at her. Faces of desperate trust looked up at her, silently pleading for more comforting words. They _believed_ her. They wanted to listen to her. Something fluttered within Glinda's stomach, and her smile grew a little less forced.

"The Wicked Witch of the West cannot hurt you!" she cried, her voice growing more passionate. "Just listen to her name! Goodness knows, _wicked_ never triumphs, and panic will only weaken the strength that we hold when we just stand together."

Glinda paused and gazed down at the street below her. It was fully flooded with people now, every house having been abandoned and every shutter opened. She'd done that. She had brought them out.

"I am Glinda Upland of the Arduennas, the Wizard's Director of Communications, and I am here to tell you that Oz will survive this challenge," she said steadily, "The Wizard and I _promise_ you that. I will be here and I will stand by you, and I will do _everything_ in my power to bring Oz back to its former glory. Good will triumph over evil, and we will come out even stronger than before!"

There wasn't even a moment of silence before the crowd exploded. The thunderous applause thrummed through Glinda, filling up the hollow inside her chest and shoving all thoughts from her head but the overwhelming sensation of satisfaction and gratification. They chanted her name—"Glinda! Glinda!"—which soon morphed into ardent cries of "Glinda the _Good_!" She drew herself up to her full height, loving the feeling of the beautiful dress swishing around her ankles and the sound of the crowd's adoration. How had she stayed so invisible for so long? How had she spent all of that time alone? How had she done without this kind of—

"Glinda the Good. We could market that."

Glinda's heart dropped into her stomach, a cold ball of iron. She gripped the railing in front of her and determinedly faced forward.

The voice behind her chuckled. "Very well done, dearie. I have to admit, I didn't think you could do it, but the Wizard's judgment was apparently sound. Not only do they hate the Witch even more now, but they love you."

The crowd's applause faded into nothing more than a buzzing in Glinda's ear as she felt her world fall from under her feet. What had she_ done_?

"Anyway, dear, I just wanted to stop and congratulate you on a job well done. I'll be going now, and I will see you first thing in the morning." Glinda could hear footsteps heading toward the door. "Enjoy your night of glory, Miss Glinda!" she called as she exited. "You've earned it!"

Glinda gave one last jerky wave and lurched inside of her room as soon as she heard the door latch closed. She ran to the bath and leaned over the toilet, crushing her gown into the tile as she struggled against the urge to vomit. She swallowed and gasped for breath, growing light-headed as she heaved. What had she _done_? How could she have said such things? How could she have so quickly and so blatantly turned against her other half? And with her so close…she probably heard it all…

She sobbed, noisily and sloppily, wiping her tears and her nose on her sparkling blue sleeve and wailing from the pain of her convictions shattering. There was no excusing what she had done. She had played right into the Wizard's hand and let the thrill of adoration go to her head, regressing right back to where she had started three years ago. She'd sworn she would never go back—_believed_ that she was different now. But it was all a sham. _She_ was all a sham. She was still Galinda Upland and would never, ever be anything better. She deserved to die.

At that moment, Glinda hoped for the first time that she'd never see Elphaba again, because she'd never be able to face the absolute disgust that surely awaited her in those familiar sharp eyes.

**A/N: Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hello. So, I don't really have much to say. Enjoy the chapter!_

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After a while, the tears finally stopped flowing. Glinda stood, still sniffling, and stooped before the sink. She avoided the mirror for the moment; she had an idea of what she looked like, and it was not pretty. Instead she splashed cold water on her face, rubbing at her make-up with her fists. Next came her dress; she moved back into her office and picked up the one she'd been wearing before. The dark blue material wasn't enough; she wanted black or grey, something dull and inconspicuous to replace her glittering pro-Wizard facade, but it was still better than the sparkly pastel mess she was currently wearing. She went back into the bathroom and pulled it off, flinching as the rhinestones scratched across her face and arms. She closed her eyes and made herself focus on their sting. When she'd first gone back to Shiz after Elphaba left, she'd made herself be numb to everything, rationalizing a coping method that really hadn't forced her to cope with anything at all. She wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

Once she was changed, Glinda headed out of her office and into the halls of the palace. Much to her relief, they were relatively empty; for a while it seemed as if the only other people still in the administrative part of the building were the Quadling cleaning staff, who were about as likely to speak to her as the water fountains were. Eventually, though, she caught the sound of another set of heels on marble. Her heart sank, but she didn't yet know the palace well enough to double back and find another route, and the thought of being lost inside over night was even less appealing than the prospect of having to talk to someone. Besides, whomever it was sounded far enough away that her chances of getting out unnoticed were still good.

At least, that was what she told herself. She quickened her pace, and tried not to think about her speech. Morrible had been pleased. Oz, that did not bode well. A gasp brought her out of her reverie and she stopped short, just in time to avoid the rather harried looking intern who'd just careened around the corner in front of her.

"I am _so_ sorry," the girl started, "I must not have been paying attention and—" She broke off. "Miss Glinda?" She asked. Her eyes scanned over Glinda, lingering on her scratches and the damp curls around her face. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I- I don't mean to pry, but is everything all right?"

Glinda had to keep herself from flinching at the fact that she'd just been called "ma'am" by a girl who couldn't have been five years younger than she was. "Everything's fine," she lied, hoping the girl would accept the response and continue on her way. Blasted marble, warping all the echoes. She just wanted to go home.

The girl nodded. "Ok, it just looked like you might need some help." Glinda forced out a small smile, and she and the girl began to head their separate ways.

"Wait!" Glinda turned around. "Sorry, Miss Glinda, I just—" The girl's face had flushed red and she paused, suddenly nervous. Glinda watched as she collected her thoughts. She'd met this girl earlier in the day, she realized. It was hard to forget such blazingly red hair. Her name was… Abigail? Ainsley? _Ada_. Right. Ada started to speak again. "Your speech today was amazing. I mean, not that that really means anything coming from me, but we all thought so, myself and the other girls, and, well, I think everyone agrees. The idea of the Witch being so close scares the Oz out of all of us, but I think we all feel better now, with you up there, and I actually feel like it's safe to feel safe, for once. If that makes any sense, which it probably doesn't." Ada seemed to realize she'd been babbling. "Anyway," she finished, "um, thank you. And it was really great to get to meet you." She grinned awkwardly and then bolted before Glinda could respond.

"Thank you, Ada," she called after the girl's retreating figure. Unexpected as they were, the girl's words had still made her feel better, in a way. "It was nice to meet you, too."

Glinda shook her head, perplexed, and continued out of the palace. Had she really done what Ada said? The idea that anyone would feel safe under her leadership felt absolutely preposterous, and yet she could see from the front steps that although the streets were not nearly as crowded as they had been before Morrible's announcement, people were still steadily flowing back into them. Avenues and alleyways alike were once again bustling with people running their errands and milling about in the last few rays of sunlight. Unfortunately, a huge number of those people seemed to recognize her, and the optimism from her encounter with Ada disappeared almost instantly. It seemed that the few blocks to her flat would be more like a gauntlet of pointing and whispering than a normal city street.

The first person to call out to her was the baker from the marketplace. He stepped out of his stall and waved a long loaf of bread in her direction. "Miss Glinda!" he shouted. Glinda bit her tongue against the urge to groan and walked over to him, dismayed to note that even those who hadn't recognized her at first were now interested in her presence.

"Yes, Mr. —"

"Laif," the baker completed. "You saved my sales today, and managed to convince my wife that the world isn't ending. I'd like to thank you." He picked up his finest loaf, round and crackled on top, and tried to hand it to her.

"Please, Mr. Laif," Glinda said, trying to stay as formal as possible, "I can't take that. It's my job to save your sales." At his disappointed look, she continued. "The Wizard taxes your business, doesn't he? Your business, your home, and many other things besides, and he uses a very, very, very small percentage of all of that money to pay me. It would be redundant and unfair for me to take your bread, too."

The baker smiled and put the loaf down. "Fair enough. Still, though," he stuck out his hand. "For my business, my wife's sanity, and my own: thank you."

Glinda took his hand and shook it. "You're quite welcome, Mr. Laif," she said. She walked away, noticing that, despite her own misgivings about her public stance, the people in the streets looked happy. They smiled and waved, and more than a few shouted words of thanks. Maybe that was what her job was about. Maybe she could make it her goal to keep the Ozian people happy and sane, and shield them from a fear that she knew was absurd. She didn't have to be pro-Wizard, necessarily, just pro-Oz. She could do that, and she knew Elphaba would have supported the idea, too. She'd run away because the Wizard's government wasn't doing anything to help its people, but maybe Glinda could try to change that. As she entered her apartment building and accepted what was probably her hundredth word of thanks, Glinda realized that her smile was finally no longer forced.

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_Please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am so sorry about the delay, but I moved into college last month and things have been insane. Between classes, work, my birthday, and just getting settled, I've barely had time to **_**talk**_** to oboefae, let alone get this to her. She was as understanding as she could be, but she did finally squeeze this out of me. **

**Disclaimer: I don't even possess my own room anymore; where would I keep Wicked?**

Morrible was waiting in Glinda's office when she arrived the next morning. She dropped her coat and barely restrained from shrieking at the sight of a person already in her chair, but she managed to keep herself collected.

"Good morning, Malandra," she managed, while, in her head, she said something more along the lines of, _Would you care to _not_ be waiting for me every time I turn around?_

"Good morning, Glinda," she said, smiling in a way that Glinda was sure was supposed to be sweet. "I just wanted to drop by and tell you again how impressed the Wizard and I were with your speech last night."

_I'm sure you were_, Glinda thought_._

"Oh, well, thank you. It was nothing, really."

"No, dear, it was certainly something. In fact, what I really came here to tell you is that the Wizard and I had a long discussion last night, and we decided that your little speech on the balcony had such a fantastically calming effect on the people that it should be repeated regularly."

Glinda regarded her warily. "How regularly?"

"We were thinking once a week, but they could become more frequent if the occasion warrants it. Of course, we would want you to prepare for them instead of just quickly drawing things out of your pretty head like you did last night, but I'm sure the weak spots in your presentation could be remedied with a little more time."

Morrible smiled and rose to her feet. "Keep the wardrobe, though," she said, nodding slightly at Glinda's closet and then turning back to gaze disdainfully upon Glinda's suit. "You really are a much more valuable asset to the Wizard when you take advantage of your strengths."

Glinda sighed and collapsed in her chair after Morrible left, honestly unsure of how she felt about the whole exchange.

The next few weeks flew by quickly as Glinda dived into her job, working nights, weekends, holidays, and sometimes forgetting to eat. She fell asleep in her office more often than not and went through so many candles at night that the maintenance staff started leaving extras in her desk. She was always stressed, generally unkempt, and in a perpetual state of exhaustion, but she also felt something that she hadn't felt in an extraordinarily long time—_satisfaction_. With each passing day, she felt like progress was being made, no matter how miniscule, and that was enough to keep her going.

Despite her predominantly unruly appearance, Glinda dropped whatever she was doing at three o'clock each Friday to don a sparkly gown and curl her hair. At five o'clock, her makeup, hair, and accessories impeccably done, she stepped out onto her office balcony. She faced a relatively distracted group at the beginning of her first few speeches, but by the third week she was greeted with a small waiting crowd. A few more weeks passed and her appearances became the highlight of the Ozians' week, and, surprisingly, of Glinda's as well. When she walked out into the fading evening sunlight each week, the stress of the paperwork waiting on her desk and of the terrible and irritating people she dealt with each day melted away and she was able to truly recall why she did what she did. It was the people—the smiling, unsuspecting people that waited for her every Friday—that made everything worth it. She was only there to work for them, and when she spoke to them, it actually felt like she was doing something right.

Fall slid into winter before Glinda even realized that the leaves had fallen. Much to her surprise, one of the letters waiting on her desk one chilly morning was an ornately decorated invitation to the Wizard's annual Lurlinemas Ball. She checked her calendar first, vaguely unable to believe that it was already that time of year, and the salutation second, a little more sharply unable to believe that it was actually addressed to her. She supposed that it wasn't really that inconceivable—after all, she was now a part of the Wizard's staff and his new "face," but she still wasn't quite used to the idea that she was that important yet. She still felt like a schoolgirl, but she was living the life of a government official.

Even though she knew that it would probably be a night of stiff conversation and carefully planned propaganda, she couldn't help but smile in anticipation. It would be nice to have some variation in her mundane schedule.

The weeks passed all too slowly for Glinda's liking, as her excitement about Lurlinemas had quickly grown to the proportions of a small child's, but the night did finally arrive. Glinda was quite proud of her gown, having had it made especially for the occasion (another luxury that she could _definitely_ get used to), and despite her misgivings about the Wizard, this was what she had always dreamed of. Whether she could fully comprehend it yet or not, she was living the life she had fantasized about at Shiz, and even though it was so drastically different than what she had expected, she was determined to enjoy at least this small part of it.

She decided against finding an escort; any society that could support a woman holding government office would just have to learn to support a woman embracing independence. Instead, she arranged her own carriage and arrived in style, enjoying the feel of the many eyes on her as she entered the ballroom.

The first hour was, admittedly, dull. She mingled and chatted as much as she could, but Glinda could only stand so much conversation centered around the state of the Chief of Staff's marriage and the quality of the ballroom decorations. What she really wanted to do was dance, but her escort-less state seemed to be threatening enough to bar her from any invitations to the dance floor. When she received a tap on her shoulder during a particularly boring monologue on the pros and cons of decorating the carriage horses for the holiday, she was thrilled; when she turned around to face the first truly friendly face she had seen in months, she was ecstatic.

"_Fiyero!_" she exclaimed in a rather unladylike fashion, barely restraining herself from clapping her hands. At his smirk and the disdainful gazes of the people she had been conversing with , she rolled her eyes slightly and dipped into a curtsey. "I mean, hello, Your Highness. How are you on this fine night?"

The corners of Fiyero's mouth twitched, but he gave no other indication of the laughter he, too, was smothering. "I'll be all the better if you agree to dance with me, Miss Glinda."

"I'd be delighted."

Glinda followed him to the center of the floor and then squeezed him in a hidden hug as they stepped into the dance. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she whispered. "Not only have I not seen you in almost half a year, but you just saved me from the most mind-numbing discussion that I have ever been forced to endure. You have my undying gratitude."

Fiyero smiled. "Oh, Glinda, I seem to remember many worse conversations back at Shiz. There is no way that anything that man had to say could possibly rival our lively discourse on whether _pink_ is a flavor or not."

"I still stand by the milk," Glinda said stubbornly. "It's pink, and it's tasty."

"That's _strawberry_—"

"Lalala—_I can't hear you_!"

The two grinned at each other. "So, how are you _really_?" Glinda asked, her voice softer.

"I'm doing really well," Fiyero said earnestly. "I'm back in the city now, but I just got back from spending several months at home. I haven't spent that much time in the Vinkus since my primary school days. Did you hear that Sarima is pregnant?"

"No!" Glinda said delightedly, seeing the look of genuine elation dancing in her friend's eyes. "That's wonderful, Fiyero, really. When is she due?"

"In about four months. I'm going to be here in the city for most of that time, but unless some sort of war breaks out, I'll be back in time to see my son born."

"Son? What makes you so sure that it's going to be a boy, Mister I-Failed-Biology?"

"It just will be. A father knows these things."

"Uh-huh. I'm so sure."

"Of course you are. So, how are you? I've heard so much about Glinda the Good that I'm beginning to feel like Glinda Upland has disappeared."

"Oh, most days I'm pretty sure that we're one and the same. But really, I'm doing great. I have to admit that this job positively drains the life out of me, but that doesn't stop me from waking up every morning ready to go again. I really feel like I'm doing something worthwhile."

Fiyero smiled warmly. "I'm so glad to hear that. So what have you been up to behind the scenes? Thwarted any plans? Tampered with any documents? Planned any coups?"

"_Fiyero!"_ Glinda hissed, tightening her grip on his hand. "What are you thinking? Look at where we are!"

"Oh, relax, Glin," he said lightly. "No one can hear me over the music."

"You don't know that! Are you _trying_ to get us both arrested for treason?"

Fiyero sighed in a long-suffering manner. "Fine, then. We can go talk on the patio." And, with the song conveniently ending at that moment, he took her hand and led her outside.

"It's freezing out here," Glinda grumbled irritably as he shut the doors behind them. Fiyero immediately began to remove his coat, but Glinda shook her head sharply. "Keep it."

"Oz, what's with you?" Fiyero asked, re-buttoning his jacket.

"Oh, I don't know," Glinda snapped, "I mean, I can't think of anything that would make me angry. Practically screaming out treachery towards our resident autocrat at his holiday ball seems like a _swell_ idea to me!"

"Would you just calm down! No one heard me! Do you see anyone with tar and feathers heading towards us?"

"Just because they're not acting now does not mean that everyone's oblivious. Welcome to politics, Fiyero—the best beatings are those done strategically!"

"Right, because the Wizard's brand-new Director of Communications is perfectly entitled to welcome a prince to the inner workings of politics. Thank you for that."

They fell into an uneasy silence, openly glaring at each other. "So?" Fiyero finally asked, his voice tight.

"So what?"

"So _have_ you been doing anything even vaguely rebellious? Like I said, all I've heard about is Glinda the Good—I want to know about Glinda."

"What kind of question is that? 'Have you been taking part in a mutiny?' 'Why yes, and would you like to discuss it with me over tea?'" Glinda glared at Fiyero pointedly.

"It's a perfectly valid question. If I remember correctly, that's all you could talk about in your letters for the first two weeks—working for the people and subversively against the government, making the system fall from the inside. Then the letters stopped. So, I ask you, are you following through with finishing the mission that—"

Glinda quickly glanced around before grabbing his hand and dragging him further away from the party. They ended up in a grove of trees, completely hidden from sight.

"No, okay? I haven't. I'm sorry. I've been too busy, you know, _doing my job _to go to any secret meetings or take part in any cult rituals."

Fiyero stared at her, dumbfounded. "Who _are_ you?" he asked.

"What in Oz do you mean? I'm Glinda, and I'm just trying to do the right thing. I've been learning and working and setting up foundations. I'm building confidence within the Ozian people so that I can help them, and I am building up trust within the administration that I work for so that there will be no basis for suspicion. How am I supposed to work against the Wizard without knowing how the Wizard works?"

"How are you supposed to work against the Wizard when you're too busy working for him?"

Glinda's jaw dropped. "How dare you—"

"Look at yourself, Glinda! You're practically playing his game for him! You're here at this huge society event with your sparkly dress and your bubbly laugh—I might as well call you Miss Galinda. You came here to inspire progress, but instead you're letting yourself lapse back into a blonde pawn. I don't even know who you are anymore."

Glinda stared at him for a long moment, the muted sounds of the party mockingly filling the silence. "You're right," she said quietly. "You really don't know me at all."

"Glinda—"

"No. I don't care what you think."

She turned and walked back into the ballroom, leaving Fiyero gazing after her in the cold.

**A/N: Review! Also, wish oboefae luck as she moves back to college tomorrow.**


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Hello there! Sorry this has taken so long; school started back up, and I'm reading a book a week for an English class and eight million pages a night for my other classes. Things have just been crazy. Anyway, enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked, and neither does DefiGraviti

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Warm air whooshed onto Glinda's face as she slid open the ballroom doors, but it wasn't the comfort she'd expected. It was too hot, too close. The rich suits and gowns twirling across the floor blurred together as the music and voices of the revelers changed from merriment and cheer to something harsher and more raucous. It took everything she had to keep herself from turning around and escaping back outside.

The ball was too much to handle for the moment, but Glinda knew it would be improper to leave the event so soon. People would notice and talk, and the last thing she needed was for her carefully crafted image to fall prey to petty gossip. Instead, she skirted around the edge of the room as close to the wall as possible, avoiding eye contact, and slipped inside the powder room. It was mercifully empty. She sank gratefully into a velvet-cushioned chair. The walls and draperies muted the noise from outside, and the chair's wooden arms were reassuringly solid under her hands.

Glinda took a deep breath and was surprised at how ragged it was. She was shaking, hard; anger and regret rushed through her in waves, invigorating and then exhausting. She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes, but all she could see was Fiyero's face, righteous one moment and then, just as she turned, stricken, her words a cold shock against his princely self-importance. _I really_ don't _care what he thinks,_ she thought to herself. _He hasn't been here. And he's a prince; he doesn't know what it's like_ _to work for someone, to have to worry about your job and your appearance all the time._

She stood up from the chair, too indignant to stay in one place. _Of course he thinks I should be doing more; he makes his own rules! How dare he just assume that I could set everything aside and give up all I've ever worked for for some stupid—_

She heard the door open and whipped around, startled out of her soliloquy. A trio of girls stood grouped just inside the door, looking as surprised as she was. "Miss Glinda?" One said, tentatively. She looked familiar, but Glinda couldn't quite place her name. It was something with an "A," maybe, Abigail or Ainsley or-

"Ada!" Glinda said, too loud. She watched the girls' eyes move across her, taking in her blotchy cheeks and frizzed hair. _At least I'm not shaking any more,_ she thought, looking down at her hands, _although Oz knows how long that will last._

"I-is everything all right, Miss Glinda?" Ada asked after a moment, brow furrowing. "It seems like I always ask, but you were pacing and muttering, and we saw you run through the ballroom before," she said, gesturing to her friends. They nodded.

"I'm fine," Glinda said.

One of Ada's friends coughed. "Right," she said, "Oz's most collected woman always unravels in public places."

Glinda pretended not to see the scathing look that Ada gave the girl.

"Fine," she said. "There was… this guy," she tried to make her pause look like reluctance, "an old school friend. He was at the ball tonight, and I didn't expect to see him here, and— Look, it doesn't matter, okay? Everything's fine now." She forced a smile, hoping the hints would be enough to sate their curiosity.

"Men," one of the girls said, shaking her head. Ada laughed.

"Elinor just broke up with her boyfriend," she explained. "We tried to warn her against Three Queens boys, but she never listened." She spoke the last words directly at the other girl, who rolled her eyes.

"How was I to know? Just because you caught your Three Queens boy in your gown didn't necessarily mean I would," she said. "And I didn't. He was trying on my shoes."

Glinda laughed with the rest of them. "I had friends at Three Queens when I was at Shiz," she said. "One of them, Crope, had this old hat that he'd wear, his grandmother's. It was an awful thing, covered in real Pfenix feathers. It used to make Elphie so upset—" She caught herself at the last moment, braced for their reaction to Elphaba's name, but none came; they were already back on Elinor's ex. She was just the Wicked Witch to them, Glinda realized; she'd never had a name or attended Shiz or had friends. She wasn't even human. Ada pulled her out of her reverie.

"Would you like to stick with us for the rest of the party with us, Miss Glinda?" She looked vaguely anxious. "We could keep that guy away, and just about everyone else, if you want."

Glinda considered. These three girls were just interns, students. They had no power and no titles, and would most likely spend the rest of the night giggling inappropriately in a corner. She imagined Morrible's face at the sight of them, her disapproval, and she made her decision. "On one condition," she said.

"What?"

"Stop calling me 'Miss.' Please, I'm only a year or two older than you, tops."

Ada smiled. "Deal," she said, and the four girls left the powder room to rejoin the ball.

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For months, nothing happened. Glinda went to work, met up regularly with Ada and the rest, and tried to stay positive through the dark and the cold. She heard nothing from Fiyero and nothing about Fiyero, and eventually she wrote it off— he was busy; he had a country to run and a pregnant wife to worry about; they'd make up eventually, when things calmed down again. Then one morning, just as the crocuses were beginning to poke up through the snow, the bubble burst.

She heard the newspaper come in through the flap on her door and went to retrieve it. She carried it to the table, sat down with her coffee, and untied the string around it, flipping to the front page. The headline was as unassuming as ever, bold black type against ash grey paper, but the words sent a jolt of electricity through her: **STATE GUARDS DIRECTED TO VINKUS AS SECESSION THREATS BECOME REALITY**. She put her mug down too hard, thoughts buzzing. Had there been secession threats? She read the article quickly. There was a quote from Fiyero (a Winkie prince, the paper said, but the words were recognizably his), something about tyranny, but the rest was all Oz-centric. The Guard was on its way out of the city already, and was hoping to engage with the Vinkan forces near Kellswater so they wouldn't have to enter the mountains. A thought clicked inside Glinda's mind: The Guard had known before she did. The Guard, and who else? How was she not informed of this_?_ She stood quickly, leaving the rest of the paper unread, and was barely into her coat before she was out the door, almost running towards the palace.

Fifteen minutes later, Glinda stood outside Morrible's office, panting slightly and arguing with her secretary. "Malandra will be in to brief you in twenty minutes," the old woman said, smiling patronizingly at Glinda. She tried not to flinch; the woman was a shark to Morrible's fish, her toothy smile and winged glasses making everything sharp. "What could possibly be so urgent that you need to see her now?"

Glinda opened her mouth to respond, but Morrible's door had swung open. "It's all right, Riona," she heard Morrible say, "I'm sure Miss Glinda has her reasons. You may come in, dear."

She pulled the door shut behind her, and tried not to think about how Morrible had made it open from her desk. "I have very good reasons," she said, brandishing the newspaper. "What's this about the Vinkus seceding? You and the Wizard must have seen it coming, so why was I not informed? Malandra, how am I supposed to do my job if I don't get to know what's going on?"

Morrible had the decency to try to look surprised. "You didn't know? I thought for sure that you'd be corresponding with the prince himself. The Wizard and I figured you would be more informed than we are." She paused. "Unless, of course, you haven't been speaking to the prince." Glinda tried to keep her face passive, but Morrible saw the flicker of emotion. "Did you two have a falling out, dear? Oh, I hope it wasn't over this job."

Glinda ignored the jab. "Why are they seceding?" she asked instead.

"You read the article," Morrible responded. "The Wizard and I are tyrants; evil, unfair, unfeeling tyrants." The words made her grin. "Now go," she said. The door opened again, seemingly unbidden. "You have a speech to make in a few hours; I think loyalty would be the best subject today." Glinda turned, shaken, and left the office without speaking.

She locked the door once she got inside her office, and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Morrible knew about her argument with Fiyero. How much else did she know? And what else wasn't Glinda being told?

Eventually, she pushed the thoughts aside and moved to her desk. She had a job to do, even if Fiyero's words and Morrible's grin had begun to sour her love for it. The speech-making was simple, really: a promise that the Vinkan rebels would never cross the border, a few lines on the importance of unity, a reminder of how important patriotism was in these trying times, and a plea for a quick reconciliation and a lasting peace. Glinda finished the draft in an hour, and spent the rest of the morning polishing. It was easier than worrying.

The speech was well-received, just as all of her others had been, but Glinda hadn't been at work for ten minutes the next day when she heard a knock on her door. "Come in!" she called.

Ada opened the door. "Morrible wants to see you, Glinda," she said, "I'm not sure what it's about, but there's a handsome officer there trying not to make eye contact with Riona."

Glinda considered the time; it was too early for her briefing, and what place would an officer have there, anyway, unless she was finally getting a real briefing on the Vinkan situation? And Ada'd said he was handsome… She shuddered at the possibility that Morrible could be trying to orchestrate and direct yet another aspect of her life. "Thanks, Ada; I'll head down in a minute. Are we still on for breakfast tomorrow?"

Ada nodded. "Jane's dying for some real discussion of the Vinkus problem. You'd think that only rhetoric is allowed here, or something."

"I just hope she never forgets how true that really is," Glinda said. They made her nervous sometimes, all three of them, with how reckless they could be. Then again, she'd been very much the same not long ago.

"She won't, as long as you keep reminding her," Ada said, but there was a smile under the hint of exasperation. They understood how careful Glinda had to be. "See you later, Glinda."

Glinda waved as Ada walked away, and then headed for Morrible's office. She heard voices as she approached, and slowed down to listen. There was Riona's, grating and disgustingly sweet to this stranger, and then there was another, deep and vaguely genteel somehow, responding in as few words as possible. _At least he's smart, not talking to her_, she thought to herself, then turned the corner and caught sight of him.

Ada had been right. He stood just to the side of Riona's desk, military posture making him look taller than he really was. His uniform, which Glinda had previously only seen as ill-fitting costumes on the palace guards, emphasized his strong build perfectly, and double rows of medals glinted in the light. He snapped to attention when he saw her approaching, and she noticed that his eyes almost exactly matched the uniform's dark green fabric. Something deep inside of her made her wish she'd taken more time to put herself together after the speech.

She looked to Riona for some sort of explanation, but she only shrugged. "At ease," Glinda finally said, hoping it was the right command. The soldier relaxed. "May I ask who you are?"

"Evander of Tenniken, miss, Ensign first class."

"It's nice to meet you, Evander," Glinda replied. "Now, um, forgive me if I'm being too forward, but what are you doing here, exactly?"

Morrible's door opened at that moment, her voice ringing from inside. "I can explain, Glinda. Come in, both of you." They walked inside.

"Please, sit down." Glinda sat, but the soldier remained standing. "You too, Ensign," Morrible said. He tried to protest, but she cut him off. "I think you'll find that this appointment is going to be very different from any of the other assignments you've carried out it your time in the Guard, soldier; now drop the formalities and sit." He sat.

"Excuse me, Malandra," Glinda said, "I don't mean to interrupt, but what do you mean, 'this appointment?' What's going on here?"

Morrible handed Glinda a piece of paper with a list of words on it, none of which made much sense to her. "What's the Blue Hand?" she asked.

"The names on that paper," Morrible began, "belong to several small resistance groups within this city. The Blue Hand, for example, is made up of Winkies who think we don't treat them like full citizens of Oz." She looked disgusted at the very thought, but continued. "In the last few weeks, those groups have become more and more active. They're graffitiing slogans all over the slums and actively recruiting; they've even begun harrassing police officers. Miss Glinda," here Morrible looked directly at her, " after your speech yesterday, we began receiving letters threatening your safety. So far we've received messages from at least two of the groups on that list promising to kill you if we don't go along with the Vinkan secession."

Glinda was speechless. "How... why...?" She managed to form a sentence. "What am I supposed to do?"

"That is where Evander comes in," Morrible replied. "You need a body guard." The soldier looked over at her. "We've rented out the apartment under yours; he'll be living there now. He will walk you to work and from work, and he'll be stationed outside your door during the day. If you go anywhere outside of this palace, you'll take him with you. If you go anywhere outside your home, you'll take him with you. Do you understand?"

Glinda could only nod.

"Good." Morrible stood up suddenly, and began ushering them towards the door. "Now, since you two are going to be spending so much time together, I expect you'll want to get to know one another. See you both at the briefing this afternoon." The door shut behind them.

The soldier cleared his throat. "Well, Miss Glinda, where shall we go, then?"

"My office, I guess," she said. She needed someplace quiet, and suddenly, ironically, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. It was like being told she couldn't scratch her nose; immediately, it began to itch. The soldier stepped aside to let her pass, and she was acutely aware of his presence as he followed her through the hallways. They paused when they reached her door.

"So, do you stay outside, or do you come in?" Glinda asked.

"I stay outside," Evander replied. "What good would I be if I couldn't see what's coming?"

"Okay." She stopped just before her door shut, suddenly formal. "It's been nice to meet you, Evander."

He nodded. "You too, Miss Glinda." The he fell into attention, staring off down the hallways, and she closed her door.

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_Please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm really, really sorry about the delay. I have no excuse, except that college eats up all our time and spits it out into grades at the end of the semester, and it was just a crazy couple of months. This chapter is particularly long, though, so I hope you forgive us. Also, we hope that at least someone is still reading.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Wicked.**

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Glinda felt jittery.

When she went home at the end of the day, she was used to quiet and solitude, and she certainly was not accustomed to having a man standing inches from her door, listening for any and all suspicious noises. She tiptoed around her apartment, setting down her teakettle with inordinate care and even donning slippers to muffle her footsteps. She didn't like being monitored, and she didn't like being protected. She could take care of herself.

She couldn't deny her thudding heart, though, nor could she deny the way _she _was monitoring _him._ She found herself stopping to listen for his movements, standing still for minutes at a time before she realized that, while standing at attention, he wasn't going to be moving much. She noticed when he coughed, though, and when the floorboards creaked under his shifting weight. She remembered the green of his eyes, a familiar shade that stirred up lost memories of home, and she imagined what he would look like if he smiled, envisioning a Van with dimples and a relaxed, playful grin. Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly concocted an excuse to invite him in. She wanted to enjoy his company, to know him, to see those eyes and that smile reflect with affection and understanding as she talked to him. She suddenly felt unbearably and indescribably lonely, like her entire torso was merely a huge black void.

Glinda patted her hair down and switched back into her expensive leather flats before opening the door. She smiled to see him standing so vigilantly outside of her apartment, watching out for her and protecting her from all harm. Her stomach fluttered nervously. "Um, Van?" she asked timidly, wringing her hands together at her stomach to keep herself from nervously adjusting her clothes or tucking imaginary hair behind her ears. "I, um, just made some tea, and I was wondering if you wanted any." Glinda succumbed to the urge and raised her hand to tuck her hair back. "It's strawberry," she added dumbly.

Van slowly broke attention and turned to face her. He smiled, but instead of the gratification that she expected, Glinda's heart dropped. He had no dimples, none at all, and his eyes were too dark, almost brown. His face was friendly and polite, but completely empty of any sort of warmth. "No, thank you," he said courteously. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not permitted to accept gifts while on the job. I really do appreciate it, though." He smiled once again before easing back into attention.

Glinda nodded awkwardly, unable to think of anything appropriate to say, before retreating back into her room, appalled at her actions. What had she been thinking, trying to start something with her _bodyguard_? Romantic, platonic, or otherwise, Oz would have a field day and Morrible would have her throat. She even tried to play down her friendships with the girls at the palace out of fear of rebuke. Trying to fraternize with her body guard was just asking for trouble—how desperate for companionship had she really gotten? Pathetic.

Glinda furiously poured herself some tea, her hand shaking badly enough to make her spill it all over the counter. She cursed under her breath and opted to ignore it, lifting her half-empty cup to her mouth and forcing herself to endure the bitterness of the scalding, un-sugared tea. She quickly finished it and prepared for bed, impatiently wiping at the tears that had started rolling down her cheeks.

***

Glinda got up early the next morning and resolutely disguised her puffy eyes with generous amounts of makeup. It was a skill she had perfected back in her teenage years, when she had cried herself to sleep over typical adolescent drama practically once a week, and one that she was repeatedly grateful to possess. She took particular care when she dressed and fixed her hair, determined to cover up any external signs of unease. She had a breakfast to enjoy, after all, and she didn't want to mar it with any worried inquiries.

Glinda loved Wednesday mornings. She and the girls had started meeting for breakfast once a week after the disastrous Lurlinemas ball, using the valuable time to catch up on news from around the palace and, admittedly, to laugh and make inappropriate jokes. They all worked in a high-pressure place, under important and powerful people, and they found that they needed the stress relief. Glinda relied on those mornings. That time with her friends, in the café across town that no one they worked with knew about, offered her the opportunity to act like the young woman that she really was and to forget the seriousness of her everyday life. The world just seemed much less threatening when she could perform humorous impersonations of the Dreadful Duo, as Elinor had dubbed them, instead of singing their praises. That hour in the middle of her week gave her the encouragement and the hope she needed to get through the week without having a total meltdown.

Glinda needed this morning more than she could express, but it was suddenly much less appealing to her when she stepped outside her door and remembered that Van, with all of his stiff formality, would be accompanying her to her lighthearted breakfast. She wondered if it was really a good idea to go with a member of the Royal Guard in attendance.

"Good morning," she said uncertainly, standing in her doorway. It was like he hadn't moved all night. "Do you, um, need to freshen up before we go?"

He looked surprised. "I just came up from my apartment," he said. "Do I not look well-groomed?"

"No, no," Glinda said quickly, feeling a tad ridiculous. "Sorry. Um. Shall we go?"

"It's awfully early, Miss Glinda. You aren't due at the office for almost two hours. Are you sure we need to go now?"

Glinda silently debated with herself for a moment, but ultimately decided that she _needed_ breakfast today, and that it really was an innocent tradition, anyway. "I'm going out for breakfast," she said carefully. "I meet some friends once a week."

"Oh," he said. "All right."

The trip to the restaurant was a quiet, awkward one. He walked a consistent seven steps behind her the entire way, which made Glinda inordinately self-conscious about her speed and movements. She was used to being watched, but not quite like this. She was at least accustomed to being able to walk to breakfast without being followed.

She arrived at the familiar café right on time, but was hesitant to go in. "You don't have to come in, do you?" she asked, her voice almost pleading, aware but uncaring of her rudeness. "I mean, you can see me through the window, right?"

Van nodded slowly. "If you would prefer that I stay outside, I suppose it would be safe. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Thank you," Glinda said, genuinely grateful, before quickly darting into the welcoming warmth of the café.

She was met with three craning necks and searching eyes.

"Where is he?" Elinor asked, straining in her seat to see around Glinda.

"Isn't he supposed to be with you?" Ada said, looking accusingly at Glinda.

"Because of the Vinkus secession," Jane added. "Is there anything more going on that we don't know about?"

"Ada said he was cute!" Elinor insisted.

Glinda sighed huffily, disgruntled that she couldn't just leave her pesky new shadow out of her morning. "He's outside," she said. "He is with me, just not_ next_ to me, and no, I'm pretty sure you know just as much about the Vinkus as I do. It's not like I have any inside connections," she added bitterly.

Glinda sat down. "So, have you ordered yet?"

"We already asked for your coffee," Elinor said, waving her hand as if to dismiss the question. "What's he like?"

Elinor looked at her eagerly, impatient for details about Glinda's attractive new protector, and even Jane and Ada turned to gaze at her with begrudging interest.

"He _was _really cute," Ada admitted, her cheeks turning pink.

"Yes," Glinda said carefully, "He is."

"So?" Elinor pressed.

"So, what? He's my bodyguard. He's here to protect me from the people that apparently want to kill me."

"I saw the way you looked at him yesterday," Ada said. "I hadn't seen you so flustered since Lurlinemas."

Glinda blanched at the mention of Fiyero. "Look," she said quickly, "it's not like that. He's very attractive, and I'm sure he's very nice, but he's my bodyguard. He has a job to do, and so do I. Plus, it's just bad politics. The last thing I need is to end up in _The_ _Emerald Expos__é._"

"You're full of excuses," Elinor said. "Don't you think you could use some fun? You obviously like him. Can't you just think of yourself for once and go for it?"

Jane looked doubtful, but even Ada looked mildly concurrent.

"It's not that simple. I'm practically the Wizard's face, which means that I'm constantly being watched. I _am_ thinking of myself, and I personally don't want my reputation ruined because of something stupid like that. Plus, I don't like him _that _much. Really. I'm fine."

"But, Glinda—"

"Elinor," Ada said sharply.

"Okay, okay, not a romance book. I get it."

"Neither is this," Jane said, seizing the opportunity to slap the newspaper that she had been clutching in her lap onto the table. "Fighting has broken out in the Vinkus. And look—the Guard took the first shot."

Glinda dragged the newspaper to her side of the table and swiftly read the article, her eyes taking in lines at a time.

"The article claims that the tribal leaders were threatening them," Elinor, who was reading over Glinda's shoulder, said. "_'The Guard tried to maintain peace but were ultimately forced to protect themselves when Vinkan militias tried to intimidate them with threats and weaponry_.'"

Jane threw her arms up in frustration. "Of course the article says that; it's government sponsored! But do you think that's what really happened?"

"The Wizard isn't taking kindly to the Vinkus's secession," Glinda stated flatly. "The Guard wasn't sent there to protect anyone—they were sent to bully the Vinkus into submission. They were always going to start the violence, because the Vinkus never wanted to fight. If you want my opinion, I bet that the supposedly threatening leaders were really just approaching them to state their sovereignty and possibly to negotiate the Guard's departure. The weapons they describe were probably just for self-defense."

"Especially since the Vinkan casualties outnumber the Guard's almost eight to one." Ada added grimly.

"That's not all," Jane said darkly. "Did you hear about Munchkinland?"

Glinda tensed and clutched the paper more tightly. Had she really been out of contact with Nessa for that long? _Oh, Lurline, let her be okay…._"Munchkinland?" she asked, her voice stiff.

"The Munchkinlanders are protesting against the new governor, Nessarose Thropp. She declared last week that the Wizard's anti-Animal laws are null and void in Munchkinland, and the people are calling her treasonous and unfit to govern."

"Of course they are," Elinor said, "She's the Wicked Witch's sister, if you recall, and Animal rights was always the issue that the Witch claimed as an excuse for her crimes. The Munchkins are probably panicking at the resemblance. Also, they rely on the Wizard and his government—it's what continues to keep us safe from the Witch, after all."

Glinda kept her eyes carefully trained on the table, breathing in and out at a slow, controlled rate. She was surprised at the intensity of her sudden rage after all this time of carefully avoiding those thoughts. She couldn't blame them, she reminded herself, for being indoctrinated like they were, and she certainly couldn't reveal to them that she was any different. She firmly blinked her eyes.

"Witch or not, you do realize that the Munchkins are protesting Animal _rights_, don't you?" Jane whispered angrily. "I mean, Governor Thropp perhaps did it a little _stupidly_ in a political sense, seeing as she doesn't actually have the power to void any of the Wizard's laws, but that doesn't make it wrong."

Ada nodded silently. Elinor looked down at her knees, uncomfortable, but didn't object.

"The thing is, though, that the rest of Oz doesn't bother to think that much," Glinda said dully, not looking up from the table. "They just see their trusted leader making laws and policies that are supposed to protect them, and they go crazy when someone tries to defy him."

"So that's how rights vanish," Jane said quietly. "With people fighting to kill them."

Their coffee arrived then, and the waiter took their order. Jane slid the newspaper into her bag and the four of them dropped the subject, suddenly more aware of the ears all around them. Their conversation was much more subdued than usual after that, though, and Glinda left for work feeling bitter and agitated.

Van smiled at her as he greeted her at the door. "How was your breakfast?" he asked congenially.

Glinda barely stopped to nod at him. "Not quite as enjoyable as I had hoped," she said curtly.

**A/N: Please review! We'll try to get another chapter out soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I know, I know; there really is no excuse for this being so late. I'm sorry. College is hard, and the fic is, unfortunately, not the highest point on my or DefiGraviti's list of priorities. That said, I hope you enjoy this, if you can still remember what the heck is going on. We will continue to write and post chapters here; they just will probably be pretty far between until at least summer break._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked. Not that that admission would mean anything if Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, et al. decided to come after me, but, you know, it's worth a shot.

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The Vinkan war dragged on for months, the headlines becoming increasingly desperate as more backups were sent to the struggling Guard. What the Vinkans lacked in number and technology, they more than made up for with their knowledge of the land and their sheer skill. A single mercenary could sneak into an Ozian camp and take out several tents, but they seldom went for human targets. Instead, they stole food and ammunition. They left the medical supplies but took guns and, the story went, an entire fleet of horses. The Palace's coffers were beginning to house more cobwebs than coin.

While Glinda was trying to stay ahead of news reports from the West, bad news of another variety trickled in from the East. Ever so quietly, hidden in the back pages of _The Emerald City Press_, a revolution was stirring in Munchkinland. Nessa's proclamation on Animal rights had worked just as she'd probably intended; the Animals there had stopped working the fields and begun demanding wages that the Munchkins would have been unable to pay even if they had been willing to do so. The state was paralyzed, and the Munchkins were indignant. The few reporters still stationed there had started to warn of anti-Animal attacks and violence.

It was with this worry in mind that Glinda finally concocted an excuse to head for Munchkinland. She approached Morrible's office around lunchtime, banking on the hope that Riona wouldn't be at the desk. Morrible's voice echoed out at her first knock.

"Come in, Glinda!"

Glinda slipped inside the office, trying not to think about how Morrible had known it was her. She stood just in front of the desk once inside and hated how awkward she felt. No matter how much the last few years had changed her, something about standing in front of Horrible Morrible always made her feel like she was twelve years old.

Morrible hadn't looked up from the newspaper on her desk. "Please, sit," she said, still not looking up. "Have you heard about this, Glinda?" She gestured to an article Glinda couldn't quite make out. "The Munchkins are in revolt, and that idiot woman still refuses to repeal her decision."

Glinda bit her tongue hard before replying. "Actually, Malandra, that's what I came here to discuss with you. Things are getting violent, and I'm worried about safety in Oz proper." She felt the base of the lie forming and hoped it would be strong enough to carry her. "Ne- er, Governor Thropp is an easy target, but getting rid of her isn't really going to make their lives any better. I think if the violence is allowed to escalate to full force, it won't be long until we have Munchkins at the gates of the city." She held her breath. That slip had been a dangerous one, but there was a tiny chance it would work in her favor.

"And what do you propose we do about the problem?" Morrible asked.

Glinda took her time, trying to look like she was thinking it over. "I was thinking… I don't know. I was thinking someone should be sent down to get a first-hand view of the situation. We'd clear it all through Governor Thropp, of course, and maybe whoever goes could talk some sense into her. After all, she's so new; she might be glad of the help."

Morrible didn't mince words. "When was the last time you corresponded with the Governor, Glinda?" she asked.

"Madame?" Glinda tried to look surprised.

"If memory serves me, the two of you became quite close at Shiz, didn't you? After the other one ran out on you?" Morrible's tone was casual, but Glinda knew the words were meant to sting, and they did. She struggled through the next part, fighting to keep her tone even.

"I haven't had contact with her for several months. Six or eight, maybe, not counting Lurlinemas cards."

Morrible nodded almost imperceptibly. "And this person you wanted to send to Munchkinland, did you have anyone in mind? Are you perhaps looking for a new assignment?"

"I think I could be useful there," Glinda replied. She didn't want to answer the question directly. "You got to the center of it when you brought up my relationship with the Governor. Honestly, Malandra, I'm not certain she'll listen to me. It's been so long, and, well, Nessa doesn't like being left." Her last line was payment, a drop of oil to grease the machine that could get her to Munchkinland. Glinda hated giving it, but Morrible would love the information, and the weakness implied in Glinda's worry. Maybe it was worth giving.

Morrible was nodding openly now. "I see. Yes, that all works out nicely." She was practically rubbing her plans together as the plan fell into place in her head.

"Wonderful," Glinda said. Relief flooded through her, and she was seized by a need to retreat from the office as quickly as possible. "I'll just be going, then. We can work out the details at our meeting tomorrow?"

"Just a clock tick, Glinda," Morrible said. Glinda halted, still standing. "What do you plan on saying to Miss Thropp, once you get to Munchkinland?"

"I'll tell her to repeal the laws, of course. Once she does, the Munchkins should be appeased for a while."

Morrible smiled. "Excellent. I knew we made the right choice in hiring you. Now, go," she said, waving Glinda towards the door. "I'll go talk this over with the Wizard, and we'll finalize everything tomorrow."

"Thank you, Malandra," Glinda said. She left hurriedly, barely containing the urge to run. Morrible's praise seemed to echo after her, inescapable. She tried to block it out, with minimal success, and focused on the task ahead of her. She was headed for Munchkinland.

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Two weeks later, Glinda stood in front of the gates of the Governor's Mansion. Evander stood beside her, eying the crowd of Munchkins picketing nearby. Their signs were a jumble of anti-Animal and anti-government sentiments, none of them particularly impressive but all of them catchy. She'd only been out of the carriage for five minutes, and already the oppressive heat had a line of sweat trickling down her back. A guard approached in full uniform, his footsteps raising puffs of dust from the drought-hardened ground. Glinda was surprised to see that he was a Wolf, although she supposed she shouldn't have been. Elphaba had once ranted for an entire evening about segregation in the Munchkin Guard, and its refusal to allow Animal members, but things had changed a lot in the past three years. There couldn't have been many Munchkins still willing to work for Nessa.

"Good afternoon," she said as he reached the gate. He nodded curtly, not meeting her eyes. Glinda was surprised at his gruffness, but then remembered who she was supposed to be, and whom she represented. She should have expected her speeches to be reported in Munchkinland.

"Miss Upland, I presume." It was a statement, not a question. She couldn't have been anyone else.

"Yes. I've been invited by Governor Thropp." She felt silly saying it, but didn't know what else there was to say.

"Yes, ma'am." He opened the gate. "I'm to show you to your room, and then take you directly to her."

"Already?" Glinda's stomach twisted nervously, and she berated herself for it mentally. Nessa was nothing to be afraid of. This was just the nerves that came with a new school year, or a long vacation. She was overreacting.

The guard ignored her question and strode off across the grounds. Evander made an attempt to pick up her bags, but Glinda protested, just as she had every other time he'd tried to carry them on this journey. They were hers, and she was more than capable of carrying them herself.

Glinda was surprised to find that the mansion was smaller than she'd imagined. She had always secretly thought that Elphaba had been exaggerating about its claustrophobia-inducing effects, but she hadn't been. There were houses in her parents' neighborhood in Gillikin that were bigger than the Governor's. The grounds, meanwhile, looked gigantic. It might have been a trick of the horizon, but they seemed to roll out forever, ending in far-off cornfields dotted with stands of trees. She saw a wishing well out front, and tried to imagine a tiny Elphaba leaning far in over the edge despite Nessa's protests. She'd fallen in, and clung like a cat to the walls over the water at the bottom until their father could rescue her. It was one of Glinda's favorite stories, for the way the two sisters had laughed in the telling.

She snapped out of her reverie as they approached the front door. Inside, the guard led her up two flights of stairs and down a short hallway, where a door stood open.

"You can leave your things here," he said. She stepped inside and put down her bags. There was a bed, neatly made with an intricate old quilt, and a basin with a pitcher of water on a stand beside it. Glinda stood silently for a moment, trying to wrangle in her nervousness. "Miss," the guard said, "we have to go downstairs. The Governor's waiting." Glinda nodded, and followed him out of the room. "The bathroom is here," he said, waving towards a door, "and more bedrooms around." He stopped in front of another door. "This is locked for a reason. You can go anywhere in the house that you wish, but do not try to enter this room."

"Can I ask why?" Glinda asked.

"You can ask all you want," the guard replied, but he turned around and headed downstairs without explaining. Glinda followed, putting the mystery aside as they hit the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the back of the house. They stopped in front of a door more ornate than the rest, with several upholstered benches along the walls on either side. The guard knocked.

"Come in!" The sound of Nessa's voice sent Glinda's heart beating wildly.

"Miss Glinda Upland, Madame," the guard announced, holding the door open for her. Glinda stepped inside, nervous and excited all at once.

Nessa sat in a high-backed chair behind a dark wooden desk. She looked older, somehow, and the red velvet upholstery conferred regalness against her dark hair and pale skin. Glinda was reminded sharply of the busts that lined the more public halls of the Wizard's Palace, all armless torsos and sharp features. An aide hovered behind her shoulder, and another sat at a small desk in a corner behind a stenograph. Nessa looked powerful in this room, despite her youth.

"Glinda!" Nessa greeted her. "Please, sit down." She cocked her head toward the chair opposite her, and Glinda sat.

"It's good to see you, Nessa," she said. She hoped it was the right thing to say.

"And you." Glinda glanced over to the stenographer, distracted by the clicking keys. "You don't have to take notes for this, Coren," Nessa said, noticing. "In fact, you can take a break for a while, please. This isn't an official visit, is it? Glinda's an old friend." The woman left.

"Actually, Nessa," Glinda started, but Nessa cut her off.

"It couldn't be just an official visit. We're more than just colleagues, I think. Although Lurline knows if it's mutual."

"Nessa!" Glinda said. She stopped talking. "I feel like I should start with an apology for not writing for so long. It's just, things have been so busy with the war and the Wizard. I got caught up."

"Fiyero's written." Nessa replied simply. "And I believe he's actually been fighting the war, so it can't take too much."

"I'm not the only one who stopped writing," Glinda said, and regretted it the moment it was out of her mouth. Nessa had sent a few more letters, which had formed a small, unanswered pile in Glinda's kitchen. She herself had done the same to Fiyero for a couple weeks after their fight, and she knew what it felt like to send mail without receiving any. The difference was that Glinda could keep that shame to herself, but Nessa couldn't. It might be worse when someone else had to know you were sending them and hoping without reason.

"Right," Nessa replied. "Right, of course. I should have just kept writing. I'm sure you'd have gotten back to me eventually. Or maybe the Emerald City's just some black hole. Everyone and everything that goes there vanishes."

"Nessa, you think this is-" Glinda couldn't formulate the words. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"To do the Wizard's bidding. To, what, to chastise me for doing what was right, for doing what she would've wanted me to do? What I thought you wanted, once?"

Glinda didn't know what to say. It was what she'd come to do, sort of. But she'd hoped Nessa might guess at other intentions. She hadn't expected her to give up on her so quickly. "Did Fiyero tell you that?" she asked.

Nessa laughed bitterly. "Please, Glinda, I'm a grown woman. I am more than capable of figuring that out on my own."

"No, I mean, did he tell you I don't want it anymore? Nessa, I do, it's just complicated. I can't go changing everything at once. I mean, look what-'

"Look what happened here? I know, Glinda, it's not perfect. I could've gone slowly, changing things a little at a time. But the Animals here were starving. They were being enslaved. It looked so easy to fix that part. So I acted. And I'm proud that I did it. I might lose this place. The Munchkin people might come crashing through those gates. I would've liked some friendly support in this, but I suppose it's too much to ask you to jeopardize your position." She looked at the clock on the wall behind Glinda. "I have meeting with the Quadling ambassador in ten minutes. Can we continue this later?"

"Of course," Glinda said. She stood. "Look, Nessa, I really am sorry. I think you'll be surprised by my intent in coming here."

"Just go, okay, Glinda? Just for a while?"

"Tomorrow," Glinda said. She closed the door behind her.

* * *

Pounding on her door awakened Glinda early the next morning. She jumped out of bed, certain that the Munchkins had decided to take the mansion, but when she opened the door she found only a guard on the other side.

"I'm sorry to awaken you, Ma'am," said, "but I have news that the Governor wanted you to know."

"Yes, what is it?" Glinda asked.

"It's about Prince Fiyero of the Arjiki tribe. The Guard's announced that he was killed in battle earlier today."

A buzzing sound filled her ears. Glinda turned and collapsed back onto the bed, head in hands. "Alright. Yes, thank you," she said finally. "Is the Governor awake?"

"Yes, ma'am. She's waiting for you."

"Right. Tell her I'll be there in a moment, please." The guard nodded and left, footsteps padding down the stairs. "Fiyero," Glinda whispered to herself. She scrunched her eyes closed and rubbed at her face. At last she collected herself, and headed down the hall after him.

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_Please review!_


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